


We Feel It Like a Shiver, That Old Life

by JumpingJill



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, M/M, brief mention of Syal Antilles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:56:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingJill/pseuds/JumpingJill
Summary: There is an award ceremony for Soontir Fel's achievements at the Second Battle of Ord Byniir. In this life, as in the last, he's rescued by the future.





	We Feel It Like a Shiver, That Old Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In Another Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397549) by [yunmin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin). 



Fel counted down the minutes until he could make his excuses and leave the award ceremony. Indeed, he would have already left, but some senators had cornered him, intent on reliving the old days. They were peppering him with questions. Escape looked impossible.

“Senators, you don’t want to frighten Major Fell off with your tales, do you? Don’t you know how to treat a hero?” A young man in a garish gold costume with paldrons pushed through the small circle. The senators shuffled to the sides, muttering to themselves.

The man drew up beside Soontir and made a motion to lead him away. Any port in a storm, thought Fel, and he threw himself into his savior’s hands.

“Nice rescue,” he murmured, casting a glance over his shoulder. He eyed the young man beside him.

He chuckled. “I’ve heard their stories and saved your life.”

Soontir laughed himself. “I believe you. How can I repay you?”

His rescuer looked at him, and Soontir had the distinct impression he was being sized up.

Causally, his rescuer said, “Seen much of Imperial Center?”

“No,” Soontir replied.

“Would you like to?”

Soontir though a moment, observing the young man in turn. “Very much so, but forgive me, I don’t know your name.”

His rescuer broke into a dazzling smile. He spun away from Soontir and gave a theatrical bow. “Saro Starflare, at your service.”

Soontir blinked. “Who?”

Saro stared at him a moment, and then laughed. Soontir grimaced. “I’m sorry, I don’t...” He felt color rise in his cheeks.

Saro waved him off, still laughing. “No no no… Major Fel don’t worry. Let’s just say we’re both famous in our circles, hmm?”

Fel tensed. “Famous in what circles?”

Saro grinned. “Nothing sinister, if that’s what you’re thinking. The Emperor doesn’t have a lot to do with my sort of people.”

“And they are?” Fel asked.

“Oh they don’t really matter right now,” Saro responded. “Now, to make it up to me, why don’t I take you around Imperial Center? I’ve never spent time with a bonafide hero of the Empire.”

Fel blinked. “Well, if you insist.”

... 

They agreed to meet a few days later to see a zoneball match. Fel, not having much else to wear, and unused to wearing civilian clothes, came in his uniform. He found Saro in the middle of a small group of young women, chatting cheerfully with them as he signed autographs and stood for holos.

“I love your jacket,” one of the young ladies cooed, patting the lapel of the bright pink neon coat.

Saro winked and loudly whispered. “Thank you, it’s one of my favorites, and my agent hates it.” He spotted Fel and perked up. “And there’s my date! I am sorry ladies, I have to go.”

The women, with much sighing and giggling, let Saro through, and he caught up with Fel, immediately linking arms.

Fel looked at the dispersing group behind him with a raised eyebrow. “Fans of yours?”

Saros smiled. “Got to be nice to the adoring public.” He checked his chrono. “We should get going, the match is starting soon.”

He led Fel to their seats and they settled in. Fel eyed the program in his hand, mind elsewhere. “I suppose that is a constant problem for you,” he said.

Saro looked up from his own program. “Hmmm?”

“As a rising holostar, you must be very popular,” Fel said casually, looking up at the man beside him. “Though I must say, I have not seen any of your films. I make a poor date.”

Saro chuckled quietly. “You could say I’m popular despite the vids I’ve been in. And you’re certainly the best date I’ve had in a while. Very handsome, as I said.” He looked Fel up and down and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Fel laughed despite himself. “A humble holostar? I didn’t think people like you existed.” He leaned over, and Saro met him half way, grey eyes bright. “Is there something of yours that you suggest I watch?”

Saro thought a moment. Then he looked away. “I rather like my work in _Substance and Stardust_. It’s a small part, but it’s what got me started. So you could say I’m rather fond of it.” He looked back at him and smiled, small and crooked. Fel returned a small smile of his own. Something about Saro Starflare still felt off, but despite himself Soontir was charmed.

Fel filed the name away for later, as they announced the beginning of the match. “Oh that reminds me, I played this in the academy.”

“Did you really?” Saro replied with amusement. “Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it over drinks afterward.”

 ... 

Several weeks later, Soontir received an invitation to visit Saro on set of his latest project as a consultant. Intrigued, he accepted.

“Just what am I consulting on, again?” Soontir asked in bemusement, leaning against a pile of crates.

Saro waved at him from the makeup chair, script in his lap. The makeup artist admonished him not to move as she applied scarring to Saro’s handsome face. “I’m interested to see what we’ve gotten right. The Imperial Navy is a bit cagey about information.”

Soontir lifted an eyebrow. “Well, for a start, who are you supposed to be?”

Saro, to more admonishments from his makeup artist, turned and looked at Soontir, face serious, hand on heart. “I am a former rebel fighter who’s seen the error of his ways and returned to fly for the Empire.” he dropped his serious posture and laughed. “It’s very melodramatic. One of today’s scenes is when my character runs into his former best friend, Finn Starkiller.” He looked over to the other occupied chair. “It should be a good one, right, Elix?”

Elix, who had been bent over his script in serious concentration, shook his blond hair and laughed, blue eyes sparkling. “We’ll get lots of fan mail for sure.”

Soontir cocked his head quizzically. Saro shrugged. “Lots of the female fans like when our characters are on screen together. Good chemistry, I think the execs called it.” Saro waggled his eyebrows, then settled in to let his poor benighted makeup artist finish her work in peace.

 

It was very busy on set, Soontir found – not unlike a hangar right before battle. While lighting and cameras were set up and tested, Saro got a final wardrobe fitting for his Imperial uniform. It was better tailored than any uniform Fel had been issued. The tightness of the pants was probably not to regulation either, though Soontir was appreciative nonetheless.

“Well?” Saro said, once Wardrobe released him. “Do I make a fine Imperial officer?”

Soontir looked him up and down. “I am not sure how I feel about the fact that you’re a higher rank than I am.”

Saro looked down at the rank pins in slight confusion. “What’s this then?”

“General. If defecting from the Rebels was all that was needed to be promoted I should have done that ages ago.” Soontir said airily. “Though I think they would have tortured and shot me first instead.”

“Well it’s a good thing you made it through the ranks of our glorious Imperial Navy the old fashioned way. I would never have met you if you’d been shot.” Saro adjusted his uniform. “I’ll have a talk with Wardrobe and see if we can get this fixed. My character is only a captain.” Saro shuddered. “The idea of being in charge of people, even if it’s just for the story, does not sound appealing at all.”

Soontir chuckled. “Well, then, Captain, it’s a good thing you are doing what you do best, entertaining the adoring public.”

 

Saro wasn’t needed for every scene, so they sat off to the side and chatted while others shot theirs. One scene included a short conversation with the head of the Rebellion, Sathm Saduse. Soontir had never met the actual head of the Rebellion, former Senator Mon Mothma, but the holo images there were of her had a notable lack of low cut dresses with lots of cleavage. He wasn’t very sure how true to life the harem of scantily clad young men and women was either. 

Though to hear tell, that one might not have been too far off the mark in the case of Syal Antilles. The Imperial Navy was still reeling from that high-level defection, and there were numerous rumors as to the reason for her betrayal, some quite scandalous.

After the bulk of Saro’s speaking scenes were finished, they were herded off to the sims for some pickup action shots. Soontir was given a headset and deposited with the assistant director as Saro climbed into the simulator. 

Soontir watched Saro’s progress and found himself making notes on his technique. Without thinking, he spoke into the headset, “you’re drifting too far to the left. You’ll need to compensate with the inertia dampeners.”

“Playing backseat flyer out there, Major?” Saro sent back, but Soontir was pleased to see that he had done as Soontir suggested.

“I apologize, it’s habit to observe my squadron during training,” Soontir nodded to the assistant director, who waved him off.

“Oh, how am I doing? Do I have a future in your elite squadron?” Saro veered to the right, and Soontir winced. The parameters must be looser in the sims than he recalled. A turn that sharp would have sheered the wings right off a TIE fighter.

“Abysmal,” Soontir said without thinking. “Have you ever actually flown a ship in space.”

There was a pause, and then loud laughter came crackling over the headset. “That would be a no, then. But that gives me an idea for our next date.”

 ...

Soontir looked at the small yacht in front of him and tried not to be impressed.

‘She’s an older model, but she’s had a few upgrades,’ Saro said, leading the way up the on ramp. ‘I’d be interested to hear your professional opinion.’

‘Regarding?’ Soontir asked, following Saro up.

‘All of it,’ Saro waved. The ramp closed behind them and they made their way to the body of the ship.

Soontir noted the interior, comfortable, but not ostentatious. There was a utilitarian feel that seemed at odds with Saro’s style. It almost felt like a ship that Soontir would have flown back home. “I shall reserve judgement until I have had time to assess things fully.”

Saro laughed, sounding almost fond. “Of course you will.”

Saro gave Soontir the full tour, and Soontir’s initial thoughts seem to bear out. Cozy and functional. They headed towards the cockpit while Saro listed the upgrades, many of which he’d done himself. Soontir knew enough to be impressed.

“How did you learn so much about starships?” He asked, as Saro ran through the take off sequence. 

“Oh here, and there. You’d be amazed what you pick up,” Saro said airily. Soontir noted, however, that there was tension in Saro’s shoulders.

Perhaps it was the stress of running through his take off checklist with a guest onboard. After a moment, Saro seemed to settle, and he took the ship out, navigating Imperial Center’s never ending traffic with ease. They left the atmosphere, and traffic control released them with a pre-charted flight plan.

Saro looked over at Soontir, and smiled. “Shall we?”

Saro put his little yacht through its paces, much to Soontir’s growing delight. There was a deftness of handling that spoke of long experience, less about empty flourishes and more honest talent.

“In the simulator, were you faking it for my benefit?” Soontir found himself asking.

Saro chuckled. “No. I’ve never gotten the hang of Sienar Fleet tech. I preferred when my character was flying the snubfighters made by Incom Corp. Much better handling and better all around fighters, in my opinion.”

“Spoken like a true rebel,” Soontir teased. 

“You can’t tell me those TIE fighters you fly out there aren’t flimsy as paper,” Saro argued back, eyes sparkling.

They settled into an intense, friendly debate on the relative merits of snubfighters, before moving on to other ships, and then, Soontir’s past.

“I was a very good racer, back on Corellia,” Soontir remarked.

“Oh, really? Hot shot pilot, a good racer? Color me surprised. And from Corellia to boot,” Saro snickered.

“I’d rather thought the accent had given me away,” Soontir remarked.

“It did. Part of why I rescued you at that party. Couldn’t let a fellow Corellian suffer.” Saro fiddled with the controls.

Soontir turned in surprise. “You’re from Corellia as well?”

Saro’s smile turned self-deprecating. “I worked hard to lose the accent. You have to, in my line of work. But it’s been nice to spend time with someone from back home.”

“And how do your parents feel about your line of work?” Soontir asked.

Saro shrugged casually. “I haven’t spoken to them in years.”

Silence descended awkwardly on the pair of them. Then, Soontir said quietly, “I appreciated the rescue.”

Saro gave him a small smile. “Like I said, I couldn’t let a fellow Corellian be left to a fate worse than death. 

Soontir laughed. “Surely it wasn’t that bad.”

“As I said back then, you haven’t heard their stories,” Saro fired back, some of his good humor returning.

They spent the next little while laughing about stuffy bureaucrats, Saro spinning a story that had Soontir’s sides aching with laughter.

“By the way, do you want to fly her for a bit?” Saro asked, once their giggles subsided.

Soontir looked over in surprise. “You trust me with her?”

“Sure. I know you’ll treat her right.” Saro stood up and offered Soontir the chair. “All yours, Major.”

They switched seats, and Soontir took over. The yacht responded to his every touch, an absolute dream to fly. Thrilled, he said, “She handles beautifully.”

“She’s in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing,” Saro said. “She likes a man who knows their way around a ship.”

Soontir looked over and Saro gave him a saucy wink. Soontir drew in a breath and said lightly, “Perhaps in a little while you could give me a more thorough tour of the ship?”

“I’d be delighted,” Saro replied with a grin.

 ...

Saro went to the window and whistled at the view. “If I had known that you were going to book the Imperial Suite, I would have picked a nicer outfit. What’s the occasion, ‘Tir?”

Soontir walked up with two glasses of wine, and handed one to Saro. “Do we need an occasion?” He asked casually, trying not to let the weight of the small box in his pocket get the better of him.

Saro took a sip and looked around. “Not really. But it’s nice, even if I am a little suspicious.” He smiled.

“Of?” Soontir wondered if he had given the game away already. 

“Anything, really. Maybe you’re going to break up with me, and you’re trying to be gentle about it,” Saro swirled the wine in his glass. Soontir felt the breath leave his lungs.

“That’s not-.” he began, heart racing.

Saro laughed. “I’m only kidding, ‘Tir.” He put the glass down and took Soontir by the shoulder. “Let’s sit, come on. It was a joke in poor taste. 

He led Soontir to a chair, then went to retrieve his wine glass. As he came back, Soontir grabbed his hand and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Then released him and gestured for Saro to sit down.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Soontir said, trying to regain his composure. “In fact, I...” He fumbled for the box. He took a deep breath and set the box on the table between them. “A year ago, you saved me from a fate worse than death. Perhaps in more ways than one. Saro, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Saro stood up, face white as a sheet. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Soontir stood up as well, confused. “But I do. I love you, Saro. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Saro said, harshly.

“I know you’re hard-working, humble, compassionate, kind. You make sure I never get too full of my self. You are clever and funny.” Soontir paused. “Perhaps you feel that your parents don’t approve of you and your choices, but you are a wonderful young man, and I know my family would love you.”

“My parents are dead,” Saro said abruptly. 

Soontir felt shock and sympathy settle in him. “Oh Saro, I am sorry.” He moved toward Saro, reaching to place a hand on his shoulder. Saro flinched away.

“You don’t understand. They were killed in retaliation for my sister.”

Soontir stopped. “Your sister? You have never mentioned her.”

Saro laughed, high and strange. He spat the next words, his long hidden Corellian accent rising to the surface. “Well, you’ve definitely heard of her. Darling of the Imperial Navy she was, before she defected. Her name is Syal Antilles, and I’m her little brother, Wedge.”

Soontir sat down in surprise.

Saro, no, Wedge’s mouth twisted into a grim smile. “You understand now, right? If word got out that you married the brother of the famous Rebel traitor, you would be ruined. Or worse. I can’t let that happen to you, ‘Tir. I love you too much.”

Soontir looked at his hands, a small smile on his face. “You love me, then?” 

Wedge sighed in exasperation. “You’re missing the point, ‘Tir.”

“No,” Soontir felt his smile grow as he looked up at Wedge. “I rather think I haven’t.” He stood up and walked over to Wedge, reaching out again to pull the other man to him. Wedge went stiffly, hands clenched in fists at his side.

“I love you,” Soontir whispered in his ear. “The actions of your sister do not change that. They do not change who you are.” 

“There are powerful people out there who would disagree with you,” Wedge bit out.

Soontir reached up and stroked his hand through Wedge’s soft dark hair. “Their opinion is wrong.”

He could feel Wedge smile hesitatingly against his neck. “You’re very stubborn, you know that?”

Soontir laughed, and put some space between them. “I am, indeed. You should have thought about it before asking me out on that first date.” He tucked a bit of Wedge’s hair behind his ear. “Now, if you truly do not wish to marry me, I will accept it. But do not turn down a chance at happiness because you fear a future that may never come to pass.”

Wedge’s smile grew. “You think you can make me happy?” He teased. “Provide me a home, with lots of little children running around underfoot?”

“I should like to try,” Soontir replied, just as light, heart beating double-time.

“Well, then. How can I refuse?” Wedge beamed, all trace of fear gone. “Soontir, yes, I will marry you.”

 ....

If Soontir and Wedge had had their way, their wedding would have been a small affair. Unfortunately, word got out of their engagement and the press had turned it into a circus.

(“I need a new agent,” Wedge has complained. “This is definitely revenge for my outfits.” Soontir eyed Wedge’s latest outfit, complete with purple bellbottoms, and privately agreed.)

As it was, Soontir’s entire squadron was in attendance, as well as several celebrities. His executive officer was standing in for his family. His parents had sent a congratulatory holo, but were unable to make it due to the harvest. Several of Wedge’s co-stars were standing in for his family. 

“Ready?” His XO said to him, as they waited for the cue for Wedge to walk in.

“Yes,” Soontir flexed his hands, trying not to fidget over his uniform. He smiled, filled with joy. “I have never been more so.”

The music swelled and Wedge appeared on the arm of Elix, resplendent in a beautiful white tuxedo. Soontir felt love and affection rise up in him at the sight of his soon-to-be husband. He reached out his hand, and Wedge took it, smile equally bright. 

They turned towards the officiant, and the future, together.


End file.
